Salazar Slytherin and the Secret Broom Cupboard
by slitherynz
Summary: There are many theories on how Salazar Slytherin built the Chamber of Secrets. Here's one meant to be a bit funny, and a bit serious. Hopefully it's short and readable.


Salazar Slytherin and The Secret Broom Cupboard

Disclaimer: All characters mentioned are the property of J.K. Rowling. I do not intend any copyright infringement whatsoever and of course, no one would pay a cent for this. 

                                                               ~           

 "Salazar? Salazar, is that you?"

Salazar Slytherin, head of Slytherin House and Master of Ambitions,  clenched his teeth. The voice was that of Rowena Ravenclaw, the head of House Ravenclaw who had a tendency to patronize people in a motherly way.

Especially people who were about 5 years older than her.

Salazar turned. He was a man about 68 years of age, tall, lean, and with a long beard reaching his toes. He did not look particularly menacing, but he had the wondrous ability to not hunch his back at this late stage in life.

Rowena was walking towards him, her horn-rimmed glasses large and brown. She was a tall woman herself, with grey-white hair tied up in a bun. She wore no wizard's hat.

"Yes, Rowena?" inquired Salazar with ill-hidden irritation.

"Where are you going? And at this time of night? What are you doing out this late?"

"If I may point out, the same questions could be asked of you," said Salazar.

"Ah, but _I _was just on my way to the kitchens, to get some hot chocolate," said Rowena.

Salazar grinned, which had a very peculiar effect on his face. "Really, now? I suppose you have noticed that the kitchens happen to be three flights down?"

"Well, as I was going along, I just gazed with my Eye around, and Saw you up here. I was curious." In her old age, Rowena had taken to the un-Slytherin-like magic of Divination, and delighted in finding she was good at it. Now, she constantly walked around her three friends with hints about how lose their last matching pair of socks by next Christmas.

"Yes, well, I was just visiting the toilet," supplied Salazar.

"Are you certain? No, I think you're trying to do something suspicious, like maybe building a secret broom cupboard?" shot Rowena with her eyes narrowed.

"What's wrong with that? Is that a crime? I didn't realise they had outlawed broom cupboards," replied Salazar with agitation.

"Yes, well…you must understand how suspicious it looks if you say you're going to the toilet late at night with a bunch of broomsticks clutched in your hands."

"I don't care if it looks as suspicious as Christmas trees with Easter eggs! Now, if you will PLEASE excuse me, I am going to the loo. GOODNIGHT!" Salazar stomped off, leaving Rowena shouting after him, "Do be careful, Salazar, it's dark around the fifth floor toilet!"

As he went, Salazar allowed a quick smile to come across his face. If he kept carrying on like this, everybody would suspect only a harmless broom cupboard, not something much bigger. He would fool them. When he'd finished his Chamber, _then they'd see who was the greatest wizard. _

The old man grinned as he imagined his own true heir arriving at the school, perhaps decended from Salazar himself, to rid themselves of the unpure. He laughed shortly as he fantasied about those stupid Mudbloods crying in horror as the King came to devour them…

Salazar sincerely hoped Gryffindor house would have the most Mudbloods. Then the heir could have lots of fun purging half the lion's lousy students, and he could die happy.

Salazar reached the fifth floor toilet, closest to his chambers. As he arrived, he realised the door was no where to be seen. Frowning, he poked about before he remembered _how he had to enter the toilet._

After a bunch of conjuring spells, Salazar donned a bright red cloak and matching wig, along with white face paint in oblong shapes on his face. He slipped off his slippers and put on big yellow shoes, and strapped his ridiculously large pants together. Altogether he looked remarkably like a clown.

As Salazar finally entered the toilet, he cursed to himself about the stupid rules Helga Hufflepuff had made about the fifth floor restrooms: Muggle clothing in various variations to enter. Fiddlesticks!

Five minutes later Salazar Slytherin had exited the toilet, removed his ridiculous clothing, and was on his way to the second floor. He had gotten a sudden idea , and what an insult it would be to Helga, Patron Saint of toilet-cleaners.

He laughed maniacally.

                                   *       *      *     *     *      *

Godric Gryffindor smiled as he watched Davy Nods throw a snowball at his friend, Davy Cardson. They were in the Hogwarts grounds, which was snow-white. Christmas Day was barely 48 hours away.

It was a chilly Thursday morning, and the Gryffindor students were up and about playing with the snow. They had all willingly sacrificed study for white packs of soft ice.

It was good, Godric thought, for students to play around once in a while. After all, all work and no play makes Jack a dull Muggle.

He'd picked that one up somewhere in a Muggle pub in London. Of course, he had also changed the phrase a bit. And what he was doing in a Muggle pub, well, that was for him to know.

Godric half-wished he were inside drinking and eating merrily, but his House had deigned to grace the snow with their boots, and he had come out to keep watch over them.

The door to the castle opened and Helga Hufflepuff came out. She was head of Hufflepuff House and Patron Saint of Toilets(or something to that effect, according to Salazar Slytherin). The latter title held no meaning, just a little ribbing from old man Salazar.

"Why, Godric, what're you doing out here?" Helga was slightly short, but not fat. She, like the other three founders of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, had grey hair and would have possessed a beard if she'd been male. She, like her House, had an odd reputation for being dense, but Godric knew that was a very unbased description.

He answered, "My students are out here. I'm just making sure nothing bad happens."

"Godric, surely your prefects can handle it. You've got the school Head Boy and Girl in your house, ask _them to keep watch!" prodded Helga._

"Oh, alright," muttered Godric. "Davy, Jenny, come here a moment," he called across the compound.

A tall boy and girl came over. The boy wore the Hogwarts uniform of black robes with a winter cloak. The girl wore Muggle clothing, with a woolly sweater pulled over her head.

The boy, yet another Gryffindor named Davy, Davy Nightham, asked, "Yes, Professor?"

"Davy, you and Jenny watch over the students here. Mind they don't go near the lake, the giant squid's a bit moody today. I'm going inside for a bit."

"Yes, sir." Davy turned and spoke to Jenny as they walked away. Godric and Helga entered the castle, Helga filling him in on the details on the food.

                                          *          *         *

Salazar Slytherin looked up as his pet snake screamed, "_Godric Gryffindor! Hiss! Godric Gryffindor! Hiss!_"

Indeed, the head of Gryffindor House was coming towards the table where the feast lay, the Patron Saint of Toilet-Cleaners close behind. Salazar blanched.

"Hello, Rowena, Salazar," greeted Godric. Salazar grunt-mumbled, and Rowena Ravenclaw said, "Hello, Godric. Nice to see you inside at last."

As Godric settled down for some bacon, Rowena asked Salazar, "And my dear Professor, _please tell your snake to be quiet. He's always hissing around like he's crazy!"_

Salazar frowned, looked up, and answered, "You can't understand anything he says. I'm the only Parselmouth here, so why should _you care?"_

"Because it's so noisy! Hiss, hiss, hiss, HISS! Is he foaming at the mouth or something like that?!" Rowena shouted in slight agitation. "And why is he coiled around your shoulder like that, as if he were a parrot?"

"Never you mind," grunted Salazar.

Rowena frowned, "Fine!"

Godric sighed. "Where are your students, Professors?" He was obviously trying to make a stab at pleasant conversation.

"Mine are gazing into their crystal balls, convinced they're on to something. They're working hard, they are," answered Rowena. She had introduced the dense art of Divination to her House, and reported that they loved it. Ever since then, Ravenclaw students would go around dropping hints to people about their life-styles and future events in their life. They usually did this to their friends, people who they knew quite a lot about already.

"Cleaning up their common room. They want to decorate it," supplied Helga.

"Wiping Dung-bomb residue and snake bladders off the dungeons," muttered Salazar.

Everyone turned in surprise. "Why's that, Professor?" asked Godric curiously. Salazar grumbled and answered, "Because they lost control of their Christmas-ly spirits a tad early and had parties in the dungeons."

"With Dung-Bombs and _snake bladders_?"

Salazar glanced shiftily at his three colleagues. "Well….it wasn't _my _idea!"

Godric shook his head. Suddenly, a haggard-looking old fellow entered the Great Hall and joined the four professors at the table. He was short, wore a cap and a mouldy coat along with some trousers, and had a nasty look on his face.

"Hello there, Dan. Pleasant morning isn't it?" greeted Godric with a slightly apprehensive look on his face.

"Yes, Prof'sor, pleasant indeed…" The man called Dan looked around, casting glares in the direction of the bits of food that had fallen to the floor.

"Here you go, Dan, have some bacon," offered Helga. Abruptly, Rowena screeched and flailed her arms. Reflexively Godric, Dan, and Helga looked at her while Salazar scanned the Hall.

But Rowena was focusing on the bacon on Dan's plate, eyes wide with horror. "Oh, no, no, my dear caretaker, _do _stay away from the bacon!"

Dan narrowed one eye and asked in a throaty voice, "Why?"

"Because, my friends, I have just been to crystal-gaze this morning, and-" Rowena was cut off as Salazar cut in, "We don't believe in that kind of hogwash, thank you very much. Let the man eat his breakfast-"

"You don't understand, Salazar! Dan mustn't eat the bacon! Otherwise he will have but a half life, a _cursed_ life, from the moment the food touches his lips!" said Rowena in a mysteriously mysterious voice.

There was an eerie moment of silence.

Salazar adopted a disgusted look and said, "Now what kind of fortune is that? Why should Dan be cursed? Why, because the bacon came from a cursed source? Or maybe because this particular piece of bacon has unicorn blood in it, that's right, and Dan killed it? Oh, wait, I know, it's because his body can't tolerate bacon and he'd start experiencing earthquakes when his stomach rumbles in agony and anger!"

Rowena glared heavily at the Parselmouth. "If I may say so, my dear, I have never seen anyone so Mundane. You have no aura, no Eye, and I must claim that you will never be able to see more than foggy clouds in the crystal ball, for you lack the Sight-"

"Listen, Prof'sors, I understand that Div'nation is much a refined art-" At this Rowena beamed at him, while Salazar cast an incredulous look in his direction, "-however, I must say I am hungry, and I do not mind this bacon at all. No, I do not. So, if you don't mind, Prof'sor Rav'nclaw, I shall eat it." Calmly, he turned to Helga and said, "Thanks for offering."

With that, he turned to the spotlight of the whole thing and ate quietly.

There was another silence, broken by Salazar's snake parrot-imitator. Salazar, who could of course understand it, heard it hiss, "_Hiss! Dan is stupid! Hiss! Dan is stupid! Hiss! Listen to Professor Ravenclaw you should! Hiss! Listen to Professor Ravenclaw you-_"

"Oh, shut up!" snapped Salazar irritatedly. Godric, seeing a big confrontation coming later, mumbled, "Well. That's done. Heheh. Er….well…Say! Why don't we all go…um…play with….the snow…outside?" As he suggested this rather comical-action-for-grown-men-and-women-to-do, he saw Rowena and Salazar glaring Avada Kedavras at each other.

Rowena and Helga looked up. "Sure, why not?" they said in unison. Salazar muttered, "Sorry, things to do, I have."

Godric nodded, not inclined to have Sour-Salazar around to spoil the mood anyway. He said brightly, "Well! Let's eat up and go then! Coming, Dan?"

"Sorry, Prof'sor, got cleaning to do, the nasty Slytherin students got Dung-Bombs all over dungeon five. Might'n you know anything about that, Prof'sor Slytherin?"

"NO," said Salazar coldly. He obviously did not want to be connected to that incident, at least not in front of the caretaker. Dan said, "OK," and got up as Helga spluttered, "B-but, you, and, bladders, and, dungeons…"

Salazar didn't answer. He got up and muttered goodbye, excusing himself. Hurriedly he left the Great Hall, intent on the bathroom at the very end of the second floor. As he left, his snake hissed irritatingly, "_Hiss! Going to the Chamber! Hiss! Going to the Chamber! Hiss!_"

                                                    ?     ?    ?    ?

Grinning, the Head of Slytherin House jumped into the huge pipe leading from the sink. He had discovered this when the founders had just built the castle. It was very convenient. It lead directly to a spot underground not too far from his desired location. A simple variation of the Engorgement Charm, and he was well on his way.

The pipe levelled out and Salazar Slytherin was unceremoniously dumped onto slime and muck. Grumbling, he got up and wiped himself. Then he proceeded down the long, dark tunnel with his wand giving off the light he needed.

He took note of the width of the tunnel, and the density of the rock. Wide enough, he decided, and not too soft. Good. The King could fit with enough space to move along. 

Salazar reached a dead end, with nothing useful in sight. He frowned. The tunnel lead practically to nowhere. Looking around, he decided this was the perfect place for the door to the Chamber. All he needed to do was to fill out the needed space, and he was done.

He smiled wickedly. Muggles had always moaned about the hardships of clearing out a space deep underground. Too bad, he reflected, that they hadn't access to spells such as those he had learnt.

Salazar checked to make sure his robes were one of his old ones. Mustn't get his newer clothes dirty. 

Then, raising his wand, the old man spoke a few well-chosen words, and, slightly agaisn't his better judgement, flicked the wand in the direction of the dead-end wall.

Rocks started jumping straight from the barrier, as muck and grime flew all over the place. There was a wind howling, blowing straight in Salazar's face, but he stood perfectly still as more rocks broke from the area and flew forward.

It was like someone huge throwing back the pieces of earth, digging forward with immense strength. It was also very deafening. The pounding of the rocks, the wet _slap_ of the dense soil hitting the adjacent walls.

And so it continued, Salazar's wand waving here and there to slowly define a rectangular shape. The space was agonizingly cleared out, and finally Salazar lowered his wand.

It had taken perhaps fifteen minutes. Fast, that was.

Salazar was completely covered in mud, slime, grime, muck, a few dead worms and various other elements. Grumbling, he cleaned himself with a spell from his wand. It wasn't all that effective.

As he looked around, Salazar's hand slowly entered his right pocket, and withdrew from it a green snake. It was the same snake which had annoyingly coiled around his shoulder at the previous meal.

Salazar hissed, "_Alright, you. No more funny stuff. You're here to be the Basilisk, the King of Serpents, and I don't want anything dodgy. You understand me?"_

To which the snake answered, "_Hiss! I'm the Basilisk! Hiss! I'm the Basilisk! Hiss! I'm-_"

"Arrghh!" shouted Salazar. Darkly he wondered why he had chosen this particular Basilisk egg. There were lots more, the decent ones, but no, he had to take the one from the Discount Section in the _BaD wIzArDs' ExOtIc BaD AnImAlS sToRe_. As a side thought, he also wondered where in Knockturn Alley did the proprietrators get that kind of case-sensitive naming convention anyway.

Salazar sighed. Indeed, he should have suspected foul play when he saw the half scraped-off seal which had read, "Retarded" on the egg.

"_Listen, you Muggle-filth. You had better brush up on your communication skills, unless you want a premature death!" Salazar addressed the Basilisk. It fell silent, then hissed in a contorted sort of way, "__Yes, my Master."_

"_Good. Try 'my Heir'. That might be better. Remember, you'll be talking to him, not to me. _And for Slytherin's sake _please _try to make better use of your combat skills. That lame fight with a feather duster with you as the loser is NOT going to impress the Heir. I have a very important image to protect, understand_?"_

The snake fell silent again. Then it nodded. Satisfied, Salazar let it slither into a corner. Then, the wizard turned slowly.

He had to do something about a doorway, he realised. He watched as loose pieces of rock fell repeatedly through the magical shield spell he'd used to keep the chamber's shape and prevent it from collapsing. This, he realised as well, needed to be fixed.

Shaking his head, he walked out, hissing over his shoulder, "_From now on, this will be your home. Get used to it._"

And as Salazar placed another spell to temporarily conceal the opening, he heard, much to his irritation, "_Hiss! This is stupid! Hiss! This is stupid! Hiss!"_

                                      //       //        //          //        //        //

It was almost seven weeks later. Salazar Slytherin walked slowly through the corridor to the Great Hall. His footsteps echoed lamely faint in the darkened place. 

As he went, he noticed a small girl running in the opposite direction. A first-year. Salazar's eyes narrowed. His hand pulled his wand from his robes, and the wand lit up after he muttered, "Lumos."

Both the incantation and the light startled the young student. She looked up in surprise. "P-Professor Slytherin!"

Salazar grinned. "Hello, Macmillan. Fancy seeing you here. And around two in the morning, too."

"Professor, please, I was on my way to the bathroom-"

"The Ravenclaw common room is supposed to be a floor down! I want you to tell me _why _you are wandering around the dark, looking for a bathroom, on a floor unconveniently placed _above _your dormitory!" Salazar demanded in a harsh whisper.

Macmillan looked terrified. "It was dark, sir, and the nearest flight of stairs was the one back there, sir, and the bathroom's just down the corridor, sir, and the nearest ground floor one's a lot longer than that-"

"I see," said Salazar in an icy tone. He knew perfectly well that Macmillan's logic made sense. It was just that he loved to frighten Muggle-borns, the filthy idiots.

"S-so…can I go now, Professor?" asked Macmillan hurriedly. "I don't think I can quite hold it any longer-"

"GO! And hurry! I do _not _want to see you still on this floor by the time I return."

The young girl did not presume to ask Salazar's destination. She tore down the corridor, on her way to the second-floor toilet. As he walked away, the Head of Slytherin House thought about the possibility of her seeing the engraving on the sink's side. He shook his head irritably. It was small, she was sure to miss it.

_Unless she bends over that particular sink and turns on the tap_, teased his dastardly inner voice. Salazar ignored it. That Macmillan and her brat of a brother were trouble, he knew it. "Never trusted those damned Mudbloods," he muttered. Well. If she noticed the mark and let the story go down the school's equally dratted rumour pipeline, he'd get rid of her. And her brother. It was all justified in the name of Slytherin.

Salazar had of course been on his way to his precious Chamber. But it appeared that now he would have to take a different destination. He was also bored. He needed excitement, Muggle it…..

Snapping his fingers suddenly, Salazar smiled and set off for the staff room. When he arrived, he saw the person he had suspected would be there: Godric Gryffindor, stupid lover of Mudbloods.

"Well, well, aren't we a bit keen now," said Salazar in a cold, amused voice.

Godric looked up in surprise. "Salazar! Didn't see you there. Yes, I thought I'd mark these essays on transfiguration here. From the seventh-years. Tough exams, I'm glad I'm past them."

"I see. And at this time of night, too."

Godric shook his head and rubbed his tired eyes. "Yes, well, I'm a bit behind on my paperwork. Got to catch up, or I'll drown," he said with an exhausted chuckle.

"I always knew you were slow on that kind of things. Too bad for you. I guess you'll have to work quadraple shifts for this, seeing as you're slow as a tortoise," said Salazar scathingly.

Godric frowned, and thrust his ancient quill down in exasperation. "Alright, Slytherin. What do you want?"

"Oh, nothing, but you see, I ran into a spot of irritable trouble a few minutes ago, and seeing as it's all your responsibility, I thought I'd-" Salazar was cut short as Godric interjected, "_What _do you _want_, Salazar Slytherin? I shall not tolerate babbling."

Salazar's silky smile turned ugly, along with the rest of his expression. "_Want? I __want nothing. Oh, except for the riddance of those untrusworthy students you let come in."_

"What has made you restart your vendetta now?" asked Godric with the air of someone hearing this particular piece of conversation going crazy before.

"Nothing less than that idiot of a Mudblood, Jessie Macmillan-"

"I TOLD YOU NOT TO SAY THAT WORD EVER AGAIN!" shouted Godric.

"I _do not care! She was prowling around the corridors just now, probably got it from her stupid brother, looking for trouble, no doubt-"_

"What do you mean, prowling?"

"I mean walking around the school for no particular reason except to prove that they're better than the caretaker! I've seen them do it, that Evan Macmillan, he stalks the halls as if he would get a trophy and some prize money for it-"

"I have NEVER seen Evan do that, you're just making it up, you pathetic-"

"LET ME FINISH A SENTENCE, FOR HOGWART'S SAKE!" screamed Salazar. He took a deep breath, eyes fixed on Godric, who looked quite furious. The essays lay forgetten on the table, the top one labelled "How to Transfigure an Animal and Not Letting It End Up In-Animate". A sentence had been circled in red for obvious reasons: "-must remember to always point the wand at spesifiend dog and always remember to putter the inkantsion correctly, as it is 'Transfigurroll' and not 'Transfig'-"

Godric spoke in a quiet, dangerous voice, "I shall call Jessie over, and we'll find out what all your hogwash is REALLY about."

Salazar nodded curtly.

Godric turned to his wand, and wove it through the air, muttering a few incantations in one breath. A flat picture of a girl, Jessie Macmillan herself, appeared plastered on the desk. She was nervously staring at Godric, who stood over the table.

"P-p-professor Gryffindor? Sir? Uh…is-is there anything I can help you w-with?" she asked.

Godric's expression softened and he smiled kindly. "Yes, Jessie, I was wondering, did you happen to meet Professor Slytherin in the corridors a few minutes ago?"

"Y-yes, Professor, on the second floor, sir. I was going to the bathroom, and-and Professor Slytherin stopped me to ask where I was headed, and I told him, and I'm only just coming out now, sir…" Nervously, Jessie peered at Godric, then asked timidly, "Is there anything wrong, sir? I hope I didn't break any rules, I haven't had time to memorise all of them, sir, and-"

"Jessie, please, it is quite alright to visit the loo if you need to. I was just asking, thank you very much. Be careful when you walk the corridors in the dark, though, it's not safe. Heaven knows what will happen if you trip over a suit of armor, or walk right off a flight of stairs that was quietly moving. You understand, don't you?"

Jessie looked immensely relieved. "Yes, sir, I do. Thank you, sir. I'll be careful."

"Good. Goodnight, Jessie."

"Goodnight, Professor Gryffindor." The image vanished, and Godric turned slowly to Salazar. "You told me she was 'prowling' unneccessarily. You said she was out doing dubious things. You _implied that she was going about trying to get herself expelled," Godric said in a low but angry voice._

Salazar was wearing a nasty smile. "Well, she could have been doing that. Convenient excuse, isn't it? The bathroom, I mean."

"SHE SAID SHE _TOLD _YOU! WHY NOT ASK HER STRAIGHT OUT IF SHE WAS DOING ANYTHING ELSE?!"

"I-"

"INSTEAD, I HAD TO SCARE THE HELL OUT OF HER BY SUMMONING HER THROUGH MY WAND, AS IF SHE'D DONE SOMETHING VERY WRONG!!!! WHAT WILL THIS SCHOOL COME TO IF STUDENTS CAN'T EVEN VISIT THE BATHROOM WHEN THEY NEED TO, JUST BECAUSE ONE OF THEIR PARENTS ARE MUGGLES?!"

Salazar frowned. "I don't trust her. Her and her brother. Was that wrong? I didn't know it was." Under his breath, Salazar added, "Never trusted Mudbloods, anyway."

"I heard that!" shouted Godric angrily. "Will you stop calling them that! They're perfectly fine! And some of them are best students! Look at Jack Raventalon, he's a Muggle-born and he's top of his class!"

"And using unhonest ways to be that, too, no doubt…."

"SALAZAR! I HAVE HAD JUST ABOUT ENOUGH WITH THIS IDIOTIC 'UNTRUSTWORTHY MUGGLE-BORNS' THING ALREADY!"

"Untrustworthy Mudbloods. Not Muggle-borns," pointed Salazar out mildly.

Godric snapped. He jumped from his desk and pointed his wand straight at Salazar, his eyes blazing like a prairie fire. 

"Enough. ENOUGH! I told you, I warned you, to _never say that filthy word AGAIN! Is your skull so thick? Are your ears so filled with wax? DO YOU NOT REALISE THAT BY INSULTING MUGGLE-BORNS, YOU INSULT THE WHOLE WIZARDING COMMUNITY?!"_

Before Salazar could bark back, Godric thrust his wand straight into Salazar's chest. "Now, I am giving you fair -FAIR- warning. FAIR WARNING, you hear? I do not ever want to hear that word uttered again under this roof, neither by you, or by Rowena, or by Dan, or by any other person! And I swear, if I _do hear even the first syllable of it, I shall -and I swear, I SHALL DO IT- I shall curse you so badly that after I'm finished, you won't even have a nerve system to protest about your new body order!"_

Salazar grinned evilly. "That's it? Curse me 'till my eyeballs become replaced by my bladder's? Why not kill me straight out?"

"Because it's too easy! You don't deserve a quick an easy death. Even a slow-acting poison would be too good for you! No, I would want you live on with the most terrible agony forever, so that you'll have time to regret, but no time to repair!!" screamed Godric.

For a moment both wizards remained quiet. Godric was shaking with finally suppressed rage. Salazar was watching him with a very nasty expression, his mouth working itself angrily.

Godric shook his head and sighed. "Go. Go, Salazar Slytherin. I never want to see your filthy face in this school, or anywhere else, _again."_

Salazar frowned heavily. "Just for once in our lives, I'm letting you get what you want. Basically because it's rather what _I want, too. __I never want to see your filthy..." and here he worked his face with fury, "…__Muggle-born face again, either!"_

"GOOD RIDDANCE!" shouted Godric.

"Goodbye to you and this stupid school!" spat Salazar.

And with that, Salazar swept from the staffroom. Furiously he stalked the corridor, taking long strides to the second-floor bathroom.

It was almost complete. He smiled nastily. Now to prepare the finishing touches…and tomorrow he could leave, knowing that neither himself nor the will of Slytherin will ever truly go.

                                                       ^         ^           ^         ^

Silently, Salazar Slytherin wrote the last few words of the small piece of parchment. It was pocket-sized, basically a very cryptic note. Suddenly, the entrance to the Slytherin common room started making a very peculiar sound.

Salazar knew it was someone knocking on the wall. Exasperatedly, he tapped the parchment and muttered, "_Mudbloods-__Muggle-Borns-Up to No Good" in a strange hissing sound. Parseltongue. The parchment went blank._

As he approached, the door slid aside, and standing there was Rowena Ravenclaw. Blast.

"Hello there, Salazar dear," she greeted. Rowena was the only teacher who had not taken to speaking to him in a you're-a-piece-of-filth manner. 

"Time for me to go, I suppose?" inquired Salazar calmly. That blasted Head of Gryffindor House had arranged for him to be kicked out in a smiley way. Without consulting him, too.

"Yes, your carriage's here. Come on, then."

"Hold a minute, I've a few last minute things to do. Surely the carriage can wait."

Rowena nodded, and Salazar re-entered the common room, cursing. He bent over the parchment, hissed "_The Basilisk is a dunderhead", and wrote the last words: "Parseltongue pipes." Then he tapped it blank, rolled it up, and pushed it inside a small compartment behind a portrait of himself on the wall. He closed the slit, hissed some more, and covered it with the portrait._

Now his work was finally done. The Chamber had been finished, the Basilisk had a nice supply of rats, birds, and slime to promote longevity. The parchment would be all the cryptic instruction his true heir would ever need. Smiling, he saluted the portrait. "Good luck, Heir of Slytherin."

Then he walked out and followed Rowena through the passages. She prattled about how she'd observed, in her precious crystal ball, his argument with Godric Gryffindor and how she knew he'd be forced to go away, and a manner of other things that had relativity to those events.

As he passed the staff table(it was breakfast time), Salazar gazed steadily at Godric, who was just as steadily gazing back. Salazar ignored Helga Hufflepuff and Dan and his students. He did not give some blasted going-away speech. He just calmly walked away to the Entrance Hall gates, knowing that the Mudblood's come-uppance would come soon enough.

Finally, he climbed into the carriage. He shook hands stiffly with Rowena, then muttered goodbye. She nodded in return. Salazar turned to get one last look at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He knew he would miss some of it, most of all his beloved Chamber, but otherwise he didn't give a dragon's tooth about it. He did not care who they had found to replace him as Head of Slytherin House and Master of Potions and Defence Agaisn't the Dark Arts. He did not care if the students prattled nonsense about him. He did not care if he hadn't said his last goodbyes to the Basilisk. All he knew was that soon enough, well…..

The carriage drew away, leaving Rowena standing straight and tall behind, leaving Hogwarts, leaving….

…..The Chamber of Secrets. 

This fictional story is my first ever written, finished on 19 December 2001. I apologize for the gapholes I left in it, like how Slytherin put in the Chamber's pillars and his statue, or the somewhat inappropriate start to which his and Gryffindor's argument got started. This is, after all, one theory in a million.  I hope you liked this story anyhow and please review. Constructive criticism, praise, suggestions, anything but flames is welcome. Thank you.

_slitherynz ___


End file.
